


You've Been a Wonderful Audience

by DarklingImp



Series: Fast Food Friends [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Acting, Fast Food Workers Bonding, First Meetings, Friendship, Gen, Humor, M/M, Platonic (for now), We've all had days like this, bad day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-06 00:24:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5395676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarklingImp/pseuds/DarklingImp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bad day culminates in Mettaton kicking Burgerpants out of his restaurant and hotel until he can find some clean clothes.  Unfortunately, seeing as how all of Burgerpants' clothes are in his room (in the hotel), he's going to have to hit the dump.</p><p>What he finds is a pair of listening ears and the best audience he's ever had.</p><p>He could get used to this.</p><p>(Friendship/Platonic or a Slash fic, whichever you prefer)</p>
            </blockquote>





	You've Been a Wonderful Audience

**Author's Note:**

> The first fic I've written in nearly three years, and it's a Burgerpants/Nice Cream Vendor crack fic. So this is what my life has become...
> 
> I'm cool with this.
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway, this pairing just sorta tickled my funny bone. I have a huge soft spot for underrated characters, and I can really identify with Burgerpants and how his dead-end job is driving him bonkers. So I felt like writing a scene where the poor guy gets a little happiness. 
> 
> This can be read as platonic friendship or romantic; whatever floats your boat. Gonna do a series of these. Whether it's just two junk food vending bros or a slow-build romance, idk yet. Probably a little of both.
> 
> Anybody got a headcanon name they want me to use for these guys?

Some days, it just sucked to be Burgerpants.

Those days, unfortunately, seemed to be every day ending in a “Y”.

This particular day had taken all of the cat monster’s patience and then some to be able to get through it. His face hurt from the prolonged strain of a forced smile, his paws ached from tacking sequins and glitter onto everything, his feet were numb from all of the running between the various parts of the restaurant in attempt to keep everything running as smoothly as one person could, and his head throbbed from dealing with today’s customers’ lack of even a semblance of intellect.

For crying out loud, how many times does one have to tell someone that a GlamCheeseburger without cheese is just a regular GlamBurger before they are finally convinced?!

The answer must have been a well-guarded secret of the universe, because it was around the eighth or ninth explanation that Mettaton decided to grace the joint with his presence and (mercifully!) pulled away the dull-witted attention of the customer upon whom the cat had been waiting. Of course, there was no quick moment of silence to be had, because most of the patrons burst into star-struck shrieks that would have made a banshee envious. He didn’t even have a moment’s peace to let his ears stop ringing because, _apparently_ , robots don’t have eardrums to damage and Burgerpants’ temporary deafness was simply his ignoring his boss! 

(Fortunately, the deafness cut out half of Mettaton’s rant. He stuck the write-up in the drawer with the other 52 write-ups and, if he shuddered at the accompanying threat of winding up a guest on his boss’ show, “Cooking with a Killer Robot”, that was neither here nor there…)

Finally, the rotten cherry on top of the crap sundae were the girls. 

For all of his fantasizing about going up to Bratty and Catty and smoothly explaining away the burger incident that had left him with his stupid nickname, he never was quite good with women. Practice the scenario all he might, something would always screw up, leaving Burgerpants a sputtering mess and the girls tittering over how big of an uncool dork he was.

Today’s specialty? Having the garbage bag he was carrying rip open, spilling grease and glitter all over his trousers and shoes.

If that wasn’t bad enough, his boss wouldn’t even let him walk back into the hotel until he found some clean clothes. Nevermind the fact that all of Burgerpants’ spare clothes were in his room… _in the hotel_.

That was how Burgerpants wound up spending five hours at the garbage dump, sorting through junk for new threads. 

Sometimes he wondered if he was cursed or something.

“This bites,” Burgerpants said, tugging out the umpteenth unusable garment -- this time a ratty flannel shirt. His eyes suddenly caught sight of a pair of jeans almost hidden beneath the edge of an old refrigerator. “Finally!” 

He sunk his claws into the material and pulled--

 

\--only to have the leg rip clean off.

Something inside of him snapped. 

“This REALLY freaking bites!” Burgerpants shouted. Growling, he wrung the material out, imagining it was his boss’ neck, before wadding it into a tight ball and flinging it far behind him.

“What---Hey, what gives?”

Burgerpants’ ears pricked to the sound of monster’s voice. Heaving a sigh and wondering just how much more stress he had earned himself, he looked down from his perch atop the junk pile to see a rabbit creature tugging the pant leg off his head. 

“Oh,” Burgerpants said, “sorry about that, buddy. I didn’t see you there.”

The stranger looked up at him, on hand on his hip, and smiled. “I’m not surprised. It sounded like you were pretty preoccupied with whatever it was you were doing. Um,“ he cocked one long ear in the shape of a question mark, “exactly what is it that you are doing?”

“Why do you want to know?” asked Burgerpants. Honestly, he was already beyond tired and the last thing he felt like doing was playing 20 Questions with some random monster.

The stranger shrugged good-naturedly. “Just curious.” His smile remained. “I could give you a hand, if you’d like. Business has been a little slow today.”

The rabbit -- a tall, lanky fellow whose canary yellow shirt and ketchup-red trousers stood in wild contrast to his ice blue fur -- gestured to the cart behind him. It had an umbrella sticking out of it and the words “NICE CREAM” written on the side.

Burgerpants just shook his head.

“Wouldn’t be of any use,” he told the Nice Cream vendor. “I’ve searched this dump over twice and not found anything.”

“Such as?” 

Burgerpants wiped his algae-and-God-knows-what-else-covered paws on his already soiled trousers and stood. A quick once-over told the rabbit all he needed to know. Ears drooping, he regarded Burgerpants with sympathy.

“Seems like you’ve had a rough day, friend,” he told the cat. “It’s getting late, though. Maybe you’ll have some luck tomorrow?”

A frustrated sigh escaped Burgerpants. “Yeah, but if I don’t find something soon, my boss isn’t going to let me go home.”

The rabbit quirked an eyebrow and an ear. “Whaddya mean?”

Burgerpants looked hard down at the stranger. He seemed kind enough, and judging from the cart he had with him, the sympathy he was offering to a fellow junk food jockey was probably real. He didn’t sound or act like someone from the city, either, seeming far more like the laidback types of Waterfall or Snowdin. Burgerpants didn’t get the feeling this guy was going to judge him too harshly. Even if he did, what did Burgerpants care? It wasn’t like he was going to deal with this guy ever again.

Welcoming the break, Burgerpants slipped down the side of the junk pile, sat down on an old egg crate, and rubbed his paws over his face as he began his tale. He had not meant to spill his guts to a total stranger, but once he got started, he found he could not stop. Having caught his second wind, Burgerpants felt his exhaustion burn away beneath his anger. His arms and hands gestured wildly, mimicking his own actions throughout the day. At one point, he started doing vivid impressions, covering not only the most annoying customers but the girls and his boss, too.

All the while Nice Cream vendor leaned up against his cart, listening intently, his ears perked and obviously enjoying the story. 

Burgerpants found himself going into an even more passionate spiel when he saw just how wildly his performance reflected in the vendor’s expressions. Those long floppy ears flicked backward as he winced at the cat’s recalling being scalded by flying fryer grease. When Burgerpants recalled the dimwit customer’s burger confusion, the vendors ears and shoulders slumped as one, a look of absolute incredulity marking his features. Upon building up the suspense of his encounter with the girls, the rabbit eyes went as wide as they could go as he gripped his ears in both hands, crossing them over his mouth at one point to hold back the rising “oh no!” -- which, of course, came out the moment Burgerpants told the outcome.

By the end of the story, the Nice Cream vendor was howling with laughter, and Burgerpants was feeling thoroughly proud of himself for pulling off such a moving performance.

Wiping away a tear, the rabbit -- who had been half-laying across the cart, unable to get up from laughing so hard -- turned back to Burgerpants and grinned.

“Forgive me, friend,” he wheezed out, nearly breathless, “I know you have had a rough day, but you told that story so well that I could not help myself!”

Burgerpants’ lips contorted into a crooked smile. “It’s fine,“ he assured the vendor. “It’s not so bad if it made you laugh that hard.”

“If you ever give up fast food work,” the rabbit told him, “you would make a great comedian. Or an actor, at the very least.”

Burgerpants was just about to mention that his dream of being an actor was how he wound up working for Mettaton in the first place when he suddenly remembered why he was even at the dump in the first place.

“Say, buddy? You got a watch on you?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah,” the rabbit looked down at his wrist, “it’s fifteen after nine.”

Burgerpants swore.

The rabbit looked at him, concerned. “What’s wrong?” Burgerpants put his head in his paws, groaning.

“I’ve gotta be at work at six, and I still haven’t found any clean enough clothes. That stupid talking box won’t let me back into the hotel if I’m covered in sludge. Ugh, this is just great!”

While Burgerpants was wondering whether he should just grab an old blanket he found earlier and try to pass it off as a toga, the Nice Cream vendor’s ears shot skyward, his eyes lighting up. With a snap of his fingers, he shouted, “I just remembered! Hold on…”

Burgerpants watched the rabbit dart around to the other side of the cart and start riling through a drawer on the other side. 

“I can’t believe I didn’t think of this earlier…Aha!” The rabbit looked up at Burgerpants. “Catch!”

The cat fumbled a moment with the ball of wadded fabric that slammed into his chest before realizing what it was: a pair of old jogging pants. They were far too big for him, but they looked clean enough to pass Mettaton’s inspection. He looked to the vendor for some explanation.

“I’ve got a big family,” he said, “so whenever I pass through here, I like to browse and see if there’s anything that will fit my siblings or cousins.”

Burgerpants looked down at the jogging pants and shook his head, scarcely believing his turn of fortune. He flashed the vendor a grateful smile and asked how much he owed him.

It was the rabbit’s turn to shake his head.

“Not a thing. I am only too glad to help.” He gave Burgerpants a little wave and started pushing the cart again. “Take care, friend! If you’re ever in Snowdin, feel free to look me up!”

With that being said, the Nice Cream vendor trudged along with his cart, soon disappearing between the hills of garbage. Burgerpants watched until the rabbit was long out of sight before looking down at his gift. 

_What a strange guy_ , he thought, unable to suppress a smile at the rush he was still feeling from witnessing his story’s reaction. _Is this what Mettaton feels like whenever he’s performing?_ If so, it was no wonder the robot was so full of himself. The feeling of being the center of attention like that could get addicting.

Burgerpants quickly changed into the jogging pants, tucked his wadded stained trousers under his arm, and glanced back once more to where he last saw the rabbit. His grin widened.

_Oh, yes_ , he decided, _I could definitely get used to this feeling._


End file.
